That's Life
by demon sloth
Summary: All Jean-Luc wanted was a good cup of French roast and a night of daimon slaying. What he got was a meddling boss and an annoying Englishman. Of course, it would all have been fine - if it wasn't for that damn hat! Jean-Luc/Harry requestfic
1. Chapter 1

**WordsinRain requested a Harry/Jean-Luc fic with the theme 'Hat' – or at least I think that was the theme…well, it is now :P**

**Hope you like it, Love! And congrats on finishing your last exam – yay! Holiday!**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: Totes don't own…much…<strong>

**Warning: Language. French AND English bashing – seriously, did you expect anything else? I think it's almost become a sport between the two countries (but nothing serious though – we love you guys really!). Slash. Some really, _really_ bad jokes.**

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><p>I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate,<br>A poet, a pawn and a king.  
>I've been up and down and over and out<br>And I know one thing:  
>Each time I find myself, flat on my face,<br>I pick myself up and get back in the race.

~_That's Life, _Frank Sinatra

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><p>Ash was resting in his throne room, glad for the peace and quiet, when the vision hit. His fingers stilled from their quiet strumming on his guitar and his feet, kicked over the arm of his throne, stopped tapping out a silent beat.<p>

The only indication that he was having a vision at all was the widening of his eyes as it played out in his mind.

When it finished he was silent. Then, without any warning he let out a wild cackle and twisted out of his seat, his boots thumping on the ground.

"Simi!" He roared, voice echoing through the empty halls. "_Simi! Alexion!_"

Simi appeared in a swirl of air next to him. "What?" She pouted, "The Simi was busy buying sparklies, Akri."

"Yeah," Ash patted her on the shoulder as he moved past her towards the large TV taking up a wall, "you're going to want to see this."

Clicking his fingers, the TV turned on and tuned itself until it was showing the sun setting over New Orleans. He turned around to see Simi staring blankly at the screen.

"Well?" Ash asked her.

"Simi don'ts know why Akri has called her away from the Simi's sparklies for this."

Ash snickered. "Don't worry, this isn't the main event."

Simi had just opened her mouth to say something when she was interrupted by the throne room doors slamming open.

"Ash!" Alexion called out as he ran through the door, completely out of breath, "I heard you shout! What's wrong? Is someone attacking us? Did The Destroyer get out? Did Simi run out of barbeque sauce? What! _What is it_?"

Ash gestured at the TV, with its vision of an admittedly nice sunset, with a grin plastered across his face. Alexion looked from Ash, to the TV and then back again.

"What?" A look of confusion overcame him, "I don't understand? Is this it?" The confusion turned to mild annoyance. "Did you just make me run all the way here to show me a _sunset_?"

Ash rolled his eyes and snapped two chairs and a pile of pillows into existence. "Here, sit. You both _really_ want to watch this."

Simi shrugged and plopped herself down on the pillows as Ash snapped a bowl of popcorn for her to eat.

Alexion was a little more wary but he eventually slunk his way across the room and lowered himself into one of the chairs. "This better be good." He grumbled under his breath.

"Oh," Ash sniggered, "it is."

Alexion spared him an irritated glance. "So now what?"

Ash's grin got wider as the picture on the TV focused down from the panoramic view of the darkened sky to the streets that were just starting to fill withNew Orleans nightlife. Alexion could see tourists and party goers traipsing down the main roads, heading to the bars and clubs, whilst scantily dressed men and women emerged from the shadowed alcoves and alleys, the streetlights giving them an almost ethereal shine.

"You called me here…to watch hookers?" Alexion asked, raising an eyebrow at Ash. "Why are we watching hookers? I don't think this is a valuable use of our time. And why are you showing _Simi_ this?"

"You're so impatient." Ash rolled his eyes, "Will you just wait for a moment?"

Alexion sighed. Loudly. And propped his chin on his fist. "Fine. But just so you know I _do_ have work to be doing and-"

He was cut off when a figure strode across the screen and the view shifted so that it was following him. He was wearing black tailored trousers and a black shirt shot through with blue silk so that it shimmered when the light struck it just right. He was also wearing a dark blue fitted coat that gathered in at the waist and flared out in a style reminiscent of the seventeenth century.

"Is that Jean-Luc?" Alexion asked Ash in confusion.

"Yup!"

"You called me here to watch _Jean-Luc_ with hookers?"

Ash sighed heavily with all the patience of a long-suffering parent. "_Wait_." He stressed.

The view continued to follow Jean-Luc as he strode down the street. Alexion could see the gazes of women, and some men, drawn to him but Jean-Luc seemed oblivious to them, continuing on his way seemingly without a care in the world.

Alexion stood up. "Well, this was enlightening. But if we're just going to watch a French pirate walk around New Orleans then I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass."

Ash clapped his hand on Alexion's shoulder and forced him back down into the chair. "_Trust me_." He said, "It's worth it."

Alexion narrowed his eyes, then shifted and slumped back into the chair. "Fine."

Ash grinned. "Wonderful!" He snapped his fingers again and suddenly his hand was full of a huge brown tricorn hat with a massive white ostrich plume sprouting out the back that almost brushed the floor. The feather had to be three feet at _least_.

Alexion stared at it in alarm. "What?" He asked.

Ash turned his grin to him as he span the ostentatious hat in his hands, then promptly disappeared. Alexion started and glanced around the room before turning his attention to Simi. She shrugged at him and ate another handful of popcorn.

"Ash's gone crazy." He murmured mournfully to himself as he turned back to face the screen.

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><p>Jean-Luc had been having a bad day. First off he hadn't been able to sleep. At all. So instead of rolling out of bed bright-eyed and bushy tailed ready to stab some Daimons, he had instead plodded downstairs, barely able to keep his eyes open.<p>

Secondly, he had found that he had run out of French roast. How he had managed to run out of coffee was reason for debate (though he would put all his money on his squire stealing it, the little thief), nevertheless, he had to make do with whatever drink had caffeine enough to just get him up and down to the nearest coffeehouse.

The drink had happened to be English breakfast tea.

_English._ Breakfast. _Tea_.

Not only was it _tea_ but it was _English_. He didn't know what offended him more. He didn't spend his entire human life robbing the English blind, just to pay them to drink their poncy tea in his afterlife.

But it would do he supposed. At least until he could get some proper French roast in and hidden away from his squire.

He consoled himself with the thought that at least it wasn't anything _Spanish_.

Of course he would have to spill the damn tea on his white shirt. That was just a given with the way this day was shaping up. Instead of even trying to poof it clean he just changed shirts into something darker.

After that debacle, he had found that his favourite knife had gone missing. No matter how hard he searched for it, it didn't turn up. Ergo, he had to make do with his other set of knives – the ones that his squire _still_ hadn't gotten around to sending to Kell to get the balance checked. (They were about half a pound to heavy in the handle.)

His front door key snapped in the lock. His car wouldn't start. When he kicked at the tyre all he managed to do was stub his toe and when he started hopping around in pain he managed to trip over a plastic flamingo lawn ornament.

He didn't even _own_ a plastic flamingo lawn ornament.

Jean-Luc lay on his back on the grass and took a deep breath. When that didn't work he took another, and another, until he was reasonably calm.

Then he stood up and with a roar picked up the flamingo and chucked it at his car. It clattered against the hood, scratching deep marks into the black paint. But by that point he really didn't care.

Needless to say he thought it might be safer to try and walk to work.

By the time he got down to the club district he was quite ready for Daimons to attack him en masse.

What he got was Ash giving him a heart attack.

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><p>Ash bit his lip, trying not to laugh. This was one of the more perfect ways to alleviate boredom. He waited until Jean-Luc had stalked past before stepping out the shadows.<p>

"Hello."

Jean-Luc yelped and span around, a dagger already leaving his hands. It thudded into the wall by Ash's head. Ash glanced at it curiously for a moment before turning his attention back to his recalcitrant pirate.

"That was pathetic aiming."

Jean-Luc, who had paled drastically when he had realised just who he'd tried to kill, scowled. "That's not my fault." He said, "The balance is all off and my squire hasn't taken them to Kell yet."

Ash smirked. "Only a shoddy warrior blames his weapons for his failings." He pulled the knife from where it had embedded in the brickwork without shattering and span it around in his hand, flipping it with ease through his fingers. Nodding, he flicked it down where it landed with a thud between Jean-Luc's feet. "Bit heavy in the handle."

Jean-Luc bent down and retrieved his knife with a look of annoyance. "Yes. You have made it quite clear that you are awesome. Is there anything you actually wanted or…" he trailed off when something white and feathery was thrust into his face.

Spitting out the stands of the plume he backed up a step and looked at the thing in growing horror. "What."

Ash grinned. "Here, this is for you."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

Ash snorted. "This hat is very important. It," he continued, ignoring Jean-Luc's look of unimpressed disbelief, "is about to lead to _love_."

Jean-Luc waited but when Ash didn't say anything more he snorted. Loudly. "Love?" he asked, "You're telling me that that…_thing_…is going to lead to love?"

Ash shrugged, "Eventually."

"And you're giving it to me. I'll say it again – thanks, but no thanks."

Ash rolled his eyes and waved the hat about. Jean-Luc had to constantly bat the feather away just so he wouldn't loose an eye. "It's not time just yet. I need you to look after the hat. Make sure that nothing happens to it. It must be your first priority. Can you promise me that?"

"Let me see if I've got this straight." Jean-Luc said slowly, "you want to pull me off Daimon duty for tonight to watch over a _hat_." He batted at the feather once again as it began to attack him with help from the muggy breeze. "A hat that seems to be able to defend itself _quite_ well."

Ash seemed to think over Jean-Luc's reasoning before smirking. "Yes."

Jean-Luc nodded. "And I don't get a choice in this, do I?"

Ash's smirk got wider. "Ah, the joys of minions."

Jean-Luc sighed and reluctantly held out a hand. "Fine, pass it here then."

"So glad you see it my way." Ash said, before jamming the hat on Jean-Luc's head with barely disguised glee. "It's a pirate hat so it'll feel just like old times!" he said as Jean-Luc battled with his newly acquired headgear, "Remember to take good care of it! I'll be back for it soon."

With that he disappeared and Jean-Luc was left alone in a dark alley.

"Pirate…" Jean-Luc trailed off, then jerked the hat from his head to get a better look at it. "This. Is. An. _English pirates hat!_" he roared, waving it about and managing to get another face full of feather.

Scowling at the offensive article in hand he debated just blasting the thing to smithereens and hiding from Ash. He sighed when his brain came up with a fairly extensive list of why that _wouldn't_ work.

Instead, he put the hat back on his head and, with wounded dignity, strode out of the alley – ignoring the many wide eyed looks.

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><p>Ash reappeared in the throne room to find Simi giggling and Alexion giving him a weird look.<p>

"What?" He asked.

Alexion shook his head and turned back to the TV screen. "Sometimes I worry about you."

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><p>Harry was pleasantly drunk.<p>

He was currently squished into a booth in some bar in New Orleans, surrounded by the entirety of the Weasley brothers and his Gryffindor dorm mates celebrating the upcoming nuptials of one Ginny Weasley to one Dean Thomas.

About three bars back the twins had started them all off singing the Hogwarts school song and they were still going strong. Of course, it helped that they kept forgetting the words and _had to_ start over until they could finish.

They even had the muggles singing it.

Unfortunately it was getting too warm for Harry. He struggled to crawl over the swaying forms of Ron and Seamus and fell on the floor, levering himself up when it became obvious that no one else was going to help him.

"Harry! Where ya going?" Ron asked, his arm thrown around Dean's shoulders to keep him upright.

"Outside. Too hot." He mumbled as he staggered through the still singing crowds to the front door.

As soon as he stepped outside he shivered. It wasn't particularly cold but it was definitely cooler than being squished between several hot, drunk bodies.

Harry breathed in deeply but the air wasn't cold enough to start to sober him. Instead it made him smile goofily as he sagged back against the brickwork. He should probably head back in soon.

"Hey there."

The low, sultry voice had Harry turning his head to see a tall, blond man leaning on the wall next to him with a smirk. It took him a moment for his brain to catch up but when it did all that registered was '_Pretty'_ and then '_Ew, Malfoy'_.

The man moved closer, fingering the collar of Harry's shirt as he pressed their bodies together, leaning down and nuzzling Harry's neck.

"How about we go somewhere more…_secluded_…"

Harry shivered when he felt the guy's teeth scrape his skin, they seemed a little sharper than usual but that could also just be Harry's imagination. There was something _predatory_ about him.

Grimacing slightly, Harry moved away from the guy and held up his hands as if to ward him off.

"Not interested."

There was a pause in which Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Maybe brushing the man off wasn't such a good idea but really, he gave Harry the creeps.

Harry watched warily as the man's face smoothed out and he smiled. Now he felt even more like prey.

"Okay, worth a try."

Harry nodded. He really wanted to go back inside but the Malfoy-wannabe was standing in front of the door and Harry had no intention of getting closer to him than necessary. He smiled cautiously and started to head around the building, looking for a back entrance.

It was only when he had taken several steps into the alley that he realised that he had made a stupid mistake. A hand grabbing the back of his shirt and slamming him into the wall solidified that realisation. He let out a cry of pain as his cheek scraped against the bricks. A body pressed fully against his back, making it impossible to kick back, strong hands gathering his wrists and holding them in an unbreakable grip above his head.

"Let me go!" Harry cried, writhing, trying to escape.

The man behind him wrenched his head to the side by his hair. He opened his mouth to scream but the hand slipped down and gripped his jaw. Harry screamed anyway but with his mouth forced closed all that came out was a muffled whimper of pain.

"Fucking bitch. Shut up!"

Harry kept struggling. The man behind made another noised of annoyance and gripped his face tighter. Harry could feel the bruises forming on his chin and jaw. It was painful, but not as painful as when the guy sank his _fangs_ into Harry's _neck_.

Tears of pain gathered in the corners of his eyes as he twitched in the man's grasp, unable to do anything. He was utterly helpless and he hated it.

Darkness was just encroaching on the edge of his vision when the weight against his back was ripped away. Harry immediately fell to the ground, blinking to try and disperse the black spots as he pressed his forehead against the brick. Warm wetness ran down his neck and dampened his collar, soaking into his shirt.

Behind him he could hear grunts and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

He knew that he had to get up and get away but his body wasn't listening to him right now. Dazed and breathing heavily, he fumbled for his wand. He was _not_ going to die unarmed.

He just managed to turn around when a hat stabbed Malfoy-wannabe in the chest. And Malfoy-wannabe exploded into gold _sparkles_. Harry wondered if real-Malfoy would explode if he stabbed him. Then he belatedly wondered if he had maybe lost too much blood.

The hat came closer and bent down. Harry blinked again as a face materialised underneath the wide brim. A pretty face.

Oh, who was he kidding. The man was _gorgeous_. Concerned black eyes glanced over him, framed by curling black hair pulled into a low ponytail. A line of stubble framed his jaw, running up from his chin to his lower lip.

Harry had the overwhelming urge to follow that line with his mouth. He leant forward but the hat brim poked him in the eye and he cursed. Great, just what he needed. Though it did serve to bring him out of whatever haze he had fallen under.

"Are you okay?"

Harry blinked, his fingers pressed against his abused eye, at the question.

"Nice hat." He answered.

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><p><strong>Haha – this was meant to be a oneshot! Yeah, not happening. Should only be 3 or 4 chapters long though, so no worries :)<strong>

**REQUEST!: Okay, as you might have guessed by sticking a headstrong French and Englishman together, their relationship is going to be fairly…_antagonistic_. Plenty of light-hearted bashing of each side, either way.**

**What I really need are any French insults/jokes about the English – preferably in their native language with translations. Seriously, go crazy – the more the merrier – I think I'm actually going to _enjoy_ bashing my own country (sacrilege!). And I'm not limiting it to just modern insults – oldies are good too :P**

**You can put them in a review or in a PM – whatever's easier.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh wow! I never expected that kind of response for something like this – especially since Jean-Luc's character is a pretty minor one at the moment. Lets see if we can match it for this chapter!**

**Also, I have to warn you that although I had originally planned this as a one-shot…which quickly turned into a four-shot…the plot bunny went into overdrive and was like – 'Awww, isn't this scene cute?' and I replied… 'Dude…that wouldn't ever fit. No.' and then there was some…er…humming and hawing…but in the end the plot bunny won and now this is turning into a multi-chaptered fic. Sigh. Stupid back story.**

**ANYWAY. Yes. So, it's supposed to take place sometime after Night Play but _before_ Seize the Night.**

**And for the record, if I was a god that could see the future – embarrassing/insane matchmaking is probably _all_ I'd do. Say goodbye to dignity but hello to true love!**

**WordsinRain – I hope you're happy with this!**

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><p><strong>Warning: There will be blood-drinking in this chapter. If that's a bit squicky for you then…I have no idea why you're reading a vampire story to be honest.<strong>

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><p>Jean-Luc couldn't contain a smirk at the man in front of him, petulantly rubbing at his eye and eying his hat with mutual disdain and suspiciousness.<p>

He knew how that felt.

The man pouted when he saw the smirk and Jean-Luc felt a little bad – enough to reach forward and cup his face, tipping his head back so the light shone on his eye.

He leant forward to get a better look, making sure to keep out of the weak streetlight. The eye was red and sore looking, but it didn't seem that there was any permanent damage.

"Your eye's going to be fine." He murmured as his hands dropped to the man's shoulders. Subconsciously rubbing soothing circles on his collarbones.

The man tilted his head, blinking slowly, still eyeing his headwear.

"That is a really dangerous hat." He stated, reaching up to flick the brim.

Jean-Luc grinned. "All the better to keep my enemies away from me."

It was the wrong thing to say. Immediately the man's stunning green eyes narrowed and locked with his own, the man's hands coming up and clamping down on Jean-Luc's wrists. Effectively trapping him there.

"Enemies." The man said, "But that wasn't just _any_ enemy was it?"

Jean-Luc cursed himself. Here he was, just sitting around and talking with a civilian when he'd yet to find some way to remove the memories of what just happened.

"You're not normal, are you?" The man continued, contemplatively.

The faint stirrings of panic curled through his chest. This man was normal. Admittingly attractive, but normal none the less. If he said anything then it would make it difficult for Jean-Luc. Well, okay, if he said anything about vampires then he'd be laughed out the park. But if he just said that he saw Jean-Luc attacking someone…

Oh man, he was screwed.

Jean-Luc was so caught up in his imagined failings that he didn't notice the man move until his top lip was suddenly pushed back into a parody of a snarl. He made a startled squeak (that he would forever deny making thereafter) and jerked his head back.

But the damage had been done.

The man's jaw dropped and he blinked rapidly in surprise.

"You're a _vampire_…" he breathed, and then grinned suddenly, "I _knew_ it!"

Jean-Luc could only stare at him in disbelief. "You knew I was a vampire?" he asked, voice laced with scepticism.

The man shrugged, utterly smug. "No one is that hot without magic." It was said with absolute conviction.

Jean-Luc's eyebrow slowly inched its way up his forehead, even though he could not stop the small pleased smile from crossing his lips. "You think I'm hot?"

Green eyes narrowed at him. "Did I say that out loud?" At Jean-Luc's nod the man frowned, "I didn't mean to say that out loud…" he muttered to himself and then shrugged, "I'm gonna blame it on the blood loss."

Jean-Luc frowned, "Blood loss?" He hadn't seen any blood, he thought he'd gotten to the daimon before he had begun to drink. But now that it was brought to his attention, there was the faintest aroma of…

He sucked in a sharp breath at the scent that surrounded the man. Coppery, but _so much more_. It filled his lungs until he _wanted-needed-had-to-have_ the taste, the heat, the _wetness_ exploding across his tongue and down his throat.

Groaning, his eyes fluttered shut and he swayed forward, his lips parting as his tongue darted out to run over the tips of his canines.

"Whoa there." The man pushed him back weakly with one hand as he flicked the wrist of his free hand. A length of wood shot out of his sleeve.

Jean-Luc eyed it in lazy amusement, even as he was drawn closer to that _feast. _Nuzzling the smooth skin behind the man's ear and just above the bite that was flowing freely, Jean-Luc chuckled. Hot puffs of air brushing against sensitive skin, causing the man underneath him to shiver and his breath to catch.

"A stake? That won't help you much with _me_ I'm afraid," he said darkly, tongue darting out to finally, _finally_, get the first taste of that…

He groaned loudly and fell forward, pinning the man beneath him as he lapped at the rivulets of blood with long, broad strokes of his tongue. Not biting, never biting, just to _taste_ that gloriousness. Electricity crawled through his veins, sparking in his blood and caused heat to curl low in his stomach.

The awkward angle allowed more blood to pool in the dip of the man's collarbone and Jean-Luc gave a strangled snarl as it escaped his questing tongue.

Not to be denied he gripped the man's thighs and hoisted him up, pinning him to the brick wall with his own bodyweight and the strength in his arms. The man squeaked in alarm and wrapped his dangling legs around Jean-Luc's waist as his hands came up to get a firmer grip on his shoulders, the piece of wood he had been holding clattering to the ground, forgotten.

Jean-Luc ignored it, solely occupied with the better angle and the ability to suck harder. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip, causing another squeak from the man that quickly turned into a long, drawn out moan as the tip of his tongue circled the wound.

He could hear himself panting harshly through his nose as he pressed further into the warmth against him, desperate to drink in the elixir, desperate to have that warmth flowing down his throat. But he was not alone as his companion was also panting just as loudly in his ear.

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><p>Alexion squeaked at the sight on the screens and clamped his hands over Simi's eyes. She pouted but didn't make any moves to shift positions – too busy munching away at her popcorn.<p>

"Are you _crazy_?" He hissed at Ash. "What _on earth_ are you making Simi and I watch?"

Ash tilted his head to the side in consideration. "Huh." He said after a moment.

"Huh? _Huh!_ Is that all you're going to say to…to…_this_?" He waved a hand at the screen and then quickly clamped it back over Simi's eye when another moan echoed around the throne room.

Ash turned to Alexion and shrugged, almost sheepishly. "It's a lot more…explicit…when viewed in high definition."

Alexion's face blanked. "I'm going to assume you're joking. And then I'm going to remind you that joking is not the appropriate response to this."

Ash winced and shrugged again.

"You're not joking?" Alexion hissed-yelled, vibrating with restrained irritation, "Argh, you can be so _infuriating_ at times! I want it known that if I wasn't _at this moment_ saving _Simi's innocence_ then I would punch you in the arm."

Ash shot him a smug smirk. "And thank the gods you are."

"You…" Alexion's eyes widened, "Are you _doing this on purpose_ just to rile me up?"

"Ah, foiled again."

Alexion made a loud explosive noise of irritation and rage.

"Shush," Ash said, patting him on the head and turning back to the screen, "I'm trying to watch."

Needless to say that Ash was very thankful that Alexion had his hands full at that moment trying to save Simi (though Ash had yet to tell him that what they were watching was rather PG compared to one or two things that she had accidentally glimpsed in the nightclubs that they frequented) and could not extract punishment/revenge.

Though that's not to say that he wasn't _grateful_ to Alexion for trying to save his baby. Just that if all she thought was happening was a little blood-drinking…well, she'd seen daimon's do that before.

As long as that was all she thought.

Actually, Alexion was doing him a favour. He'd have to thank him some way. Maybe he'd stop teasing him…but riling up Alexion still remained one of his most favourite past-times. Especially when the shade forgot that he was supposed to be subservient to him and acted more like a friend…or nagging wife.

He snickered at the thought, which only served to irritate Alexion more. A win-win situation if Ash had ever been in one. Though he'd have to disappear pretty sharpish when his minion had finished trying to emulate a daimon and finished sucking on the guy.

Besides, he'd seen this all before. He _knew _what was going to happen and just how far the two men would get before they broke apart and the best bit happened.

Ah, he loved that hat.

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><p>Harry's eyes rolled to the back of his head as the man pinning him lapped at his neck. He could feel the scrape of fangs against his wound every time that talented tongue ran over it, bringing a spark of pain to so much pleasure.<p>

There was something so wrong in this. In the way that this stranger could cause him to harden with just the touch of his tongue on skin.

He twitched helplessly when his current assailant's breath ghosted over his still bleeding bite. His eyes fluttered closed as another breath brushed against his skin, tipping his head to the side in offering. He felt drugged. He felt incomplete.

It was torture, pure and simple, and Harry was _not_ amused.

Scowling he opened his mouth to complain, to beg the guy to do _something_, _anything_, just so he could gather his wits about him.

Then the vampire bit him.

Harry could feel the teeth slide into him slowly, but instead of overwhelming pain, pleasure shorted out his brain. His eyes shot open as white starbursts exploded in his vision and he let out a hoarse scream, arching into the heat pressing him against the wall.

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><p>Alexion choked; his jaw dropping at the sight in front of him, his hands still clamped over Simi's eyes.<p>

Ash looked to the ceiling, finding it altogether fascinating. Was that real gold? He'd have to check that out later. Huh, he'd never really paid much attention to the ceiling. It was a bit strange, surely over the millenniums he would have at least glanced up. Guess not.

Ash's eyes slid slyly to the side to see that Alexion had started to tremble. Ooh. Not good. Maybe there wouldn't be a later after all.

He was just debating the pros and cons of vanishing out of the room when Alexion's head snapped over to him and he was pinned with an icy glare.

"_Is this anything to show your child_?" Alexion hissed.

Ash felt his lips curl up at the corners, and then had to quickly swallow the smile that was threatening to break through when Alexion's glare tripled in intensity.

"No?" He tried.

Despite _knowing_ that saying 'yes' to that question would have made things ten times worse, saying 'no' didn't seem to help at all. Maybe he should have just treated it as a rhetorical question. Maybe he should have vanished whilst he had the chance.

"Then _why_," Alexion strangled out, "are you _showing _this to her?"

"I didn't pay that much attention to the beginning! It gets funnier, I swear! And to be fair," he added, just because he could, "you're covering her eyes so it's not like she's seeing anything anyway."

Ash knew he should have just kept his mouth closed immediately after he had finished speaking.

Alexion's face blanked, and Ash thought that he had never seen anything so terrifying.

"You," Alexion said calmly, "and I will be having words."

Ash briefly debated reminding him that Alexion worked for _him_. But then self preservation kicked in and he slumped back in his seat, suitably chastised.

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><p>Oh God. Oh God, <em>oh god ohgodohgodohgod.<em>

Harry choked as he tried to breathe. It couldn't get better. It couldn't get any better. His hand clamped to the back of the man's head as he sucked hard and took in a long draw.

The vampire hummed in contentment and Harry's eyes rolled to the back of his head at the stimulation to his battered nerves. Managing, at last, to draw in a ragged breath, he didn't know whether to push the vampire away or beg for more.

The first guy had _nothing_ on the one currently causing his brain to white out.

"_Fuck_." He cursed quietly.

The vampire chuckled, breaking the last part of him that was currently cognisant. He dropped his head onto the man's shoulder, helpless to do anything but enjoy the experience.

Merlin, if this is what a vampire bite felt like he had no idea why the wizarding world feared them so. He'd fucking _pay_ for this. Just so…it wouldn't…stop…

* * *

><p>A hand gripped his shoulder so tightly that Jean-Luc could feel the nails digging into his skin through his coat. He enjoyed it, it grounded him. And <em>mon dieu<em> did he need grounding right now.

The man tasted like paradise. He couldn't compare it to anything else as he had never tasted anything so perfect. It was utterly mind blowing and he found himself unable to do anything but clutch the angel tighter and suck harder.

He groaned when the blood started to flow a little sluggishly and swallowed desperately, making the man twitch and let out a breathless moan against his neck.

It was only when that grip on his shoulder went slack that he came back to himself somewhat. He blinked, black eyes trying to focus. What was wrong with the picture.

Maybe the fact that the man he was pressed up against wasn't giving him enough blood for a full mouthful. That could be it. Or it could be the fact that he could feel only a weak, thready pulse against his tongue.

He bit out a curse as he pulled back, the man slumping heavily into his arms.

"Shit! Please be alive," he begged as he lowered the guy carefully to the floor, pressing one hand against his chest to keep him upright, the other he rubbed against his mouth, "please be alive, please be alive, _please be alive_."

He pressed his fingers against the man's neck on the side that _wasn't_ totally torn up. The way the head lolled bonelessly had his stomach clenching unpleasantly.

_Fuck!_ What had he _done_?

After what seemed like forever, his fingers finally found a pulse. It was slow and barely there but it was there.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Jean-Luc then went about trying to stop the man from loosing the rest of his blood.

He clamped a fairly desperate hand over the neck wound to try and put pressure on it, inwardly despairing over the trickle of blood that should have been so much more.

Oh gods, Ash was going to _kill_ him! He'd be left to wander the rest of eternity as a shade, unable to be seen, heard or felt! But what was worse, he'd have robbed the world of this innocent.

And he'd never be able to taste that blood again.

He was brought sharply out of his misery when something sparked against his palm, causing him to jerk it away.

His jaw dropped open when, before his eyes, the man's torn throat knitted itself back together.

"Uh…"

Okay. Maybe the guy wasn't _completely_ normal then.

Jean-Luc scrambled back, falling on his arse and ruining his coat and trousers, as electric blue sparks jumped across the man's skin. He'd be a lot more concerned but he noticed that the more sparks there were, the easier and deeper the man seemed to breathe.

It was a minute later when the last of the sparks seemed to sink beneath his skin and Jean-Luc decided that it was safe enough to check his pulse again.

That is, until the man's body jerked upwards, as if someone had yanked on a string attached to the middle of his chest, and his eyes snapped open.

His _glowing_, green eyes.

* * *

><p>Harry had been quite happy floating in the darkness. He was warm and feeling very sleepy so the darkness was very much appreciated.<p>

That was why he scowled when his vision was assaulted by bright blue. It quickly disappeared and Harry felt pleased by that. At least until _more_ of the blue sparks appeared, filling him until all he could see was pure, pulsating _magic_.

He felt as it swirled around him, settling on his skin, keeping him alive until his body could repair the damage and replace what was lost or until he could neck a blood-replenishing potion.

The magic pressed closer and Harry wanted to scream as it sank into his very core but his body wasn't obeying. All he could do was float there and take it as it _suffocated-burned-drowned_ him all at once.

Then, just when the pressure-pain reached its climax he was jolted back into his body as it arched upwards, his spine bending in ways that it probably shouldn't as his eyes snapped open.

As he collapsed back against the wall, his chin resting on his chest, a choked off sound gained his attention and he wrenched his head up, gaze locking with shocked and dumbfounded black.

* * *

><p><strong>Well…that was totally not an innuendo or anything. Nope!…Maybe I should move this into the 'M' rating.<strong>

**Hope you enjoyed it! I know I did – I practically sniggered writing this entire chapter. _So many_ cringe worthy lines! XD**

**Which ones were your favourite?**

**And just so you know – the more I write this fic – the more I want to write an Ash/Alexion fic. *shameless author is shameless***


	3. Chapter 3

WordsinRain: Don't worry! I won't actually start to write anything until I finish this one…maybe. Okay, most definitely. Sort of. You know what? No promises. And yes, I will make Jean-Luc say that to Harry! It's your request!

I'd say Jean-Luc was my favourite dark-hunter…but Sundown is a _cowboy_. With the southern drawl and the horse riding and the _leather chaps_. *shiver* So awesome. And…oh, oh no. Crap. More plot bunnies that…have…_just turned into a story_.

Uh…it's a pure DH story though. Zarek/Sundown. And the first chapter is _already posted_. (Good thing I didn't make any promises, eh, WordsinRain?) It's called _All or Nothing_ if you're interested in reading it.

Speaking of updates – this came out really fast! But I should probably work some more on _Semper Fidelis_ and _Blackbird_…

Now back to your regular scheduled programming.

* * *

><p>Grinning, Ash reached over and grabbed hold of Alexion's forearm.<p>

"This is it!" he crowed, "This is where it starts!"

Alexion stared at him in suspicion but eventually slowly peeled his hands away from Simi's eyes.

She blinked a few times to get rid of the black spots and then focused her attention back on the screen, her hand never stopping pushing popcorn into her mouth.

Alexion also turned his attention back to the screen to see Jean-Luc and the man he had just _drained_ in a stare-off. He sighed and opened his mouth to _politely_ enquire as to what the _hell_ was going on, but Ash's hand gently squeezed his arm.

He didn't know if it was a warning or not but he closed his mouth and sat back, allowing things to play out before he made any comment on the matter.

Beside him he felt more than saw Ash relax. Even if he didn't move his hand. Maybe Ash thought he needed the warning? He was probably right.

"So now the fun begins?" he asked instead.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ash grin widely and pull his sunglasses off. His silver eyes lighting up, both figuratively and literally. "Oh yes." He agreed, "Now the fun begins."

* * *

><p>Jean-Luc could only stare.<p>

What. The fuck. Was that.

The man was just staring at him, the streetlight cutting through the gloom of the alley and highlighting knife-sharp cheekbones, a straight nose and pitch black hair that stuck up every which way.

Jean-Luc's forehead creased as he frowned. Now that he was looking properly, and not distracted by daimons or that extremely addicting blood, the man sprawled in front of him was younger than he had first thought.

His jaw was smooth. And from being up close and personal Jean-Luc knew it wasn't because he had just shaved.

His stomach dropped as he wondered just how old he was. Please, whatever was up there and listening, let him not have drunk from a teenager.

There were probably laws against that.

But no, that couldn't be right. He'd been drunk. Jean-Luc could taste it in his blood. So that must mean he was twenty-one…right? He certainly hoped so.

He trailed his eyes over the man's body again, trying to pick up any clue. Well, he was short, but well dressed. He'd also, Jean-Luc recalled, had an English accent.

Which was…a little irritating to be honest. But hey, Ash had told him that he couldn't just _not_ save the English from daimons. Same for the Spanish as well.

Shame. But, hey, at least none of his old crew were here to see him reduced to sparing the enemy. He was _Jean-Luc Noir_. They used to use his name as a warning to children.

Besides, it wasn't as if the guy was that ugly. He was French. He could certainly appreciate beauty when he saw it. Even if it _was_ English.

The most eye-catching feature of the man was, of course, his green eyes. His glowing green eyes.

_Glowing_.

Holy shit.

And know that he was on the subject, what had been with the electric sparks jumping across his skin? Was he some sort of lightning bug?

He knew the English were a bit weird but seriously?

_Seriously_?

Jean-Luc was just beginning to panic when the guy jerked upwards and straight onto his feet in a move that was so graceful, it had Jean-Luc's jaw dropping.

Not to be outdone, Jean-Luc clambered to his feet. He was a lot more awkward at it, but he consoled himself by telling himself that he didn't have any freaky glowing eyes. He brushed at the seat of his trousers. It was no use. Alley slime had completely ruined his clothes. He grimaced as his hand came away sticky.

"Oh gross." He recoiled at his hand, holding it as far from himself as he could, "Great. That's just great. First my shirt, and now everything else. What's next? The hat?" he grumbled to himself, looking around to see if there was anything he could wipe the gooey substance off his fingers.

There wasn't.

Jean-Luc rolled his eyes at his luck and delicately fished in his pocket for a tissue. He pulled out a frothy lace handkerchief and stared at it, dumbstruck.

Oh. Oh that was it. First his coffee. Then the flamingo lawn ornament. And now a lace handkerchief?

_His squire was dead_.

Nevertheless, it was the only thing he could use at the moment, so he steeled himself and did so. Studiously not looking at the offensive thing.

"Maybe I should just walk around _naked_ instead." He hissed to the sky. He knew Ash was laughing at him, he could fucking _sense_ it.

* * *

><p>Ash was, indeed, laughing at him. Curled up in his chair and clutching at his stomach, helpless to stop.<p>

Alexion was torn between staring at him in amusement and staring at the obscene handkerchief in horror. The handkerchief won, but only by a small margin.

"You know," he said slyly, "I don't think I've ever seen anything that frothy since the seventeen hundreds." He chuckled, "You remember? When you accidentally bumped into Stryker when he was dressed as that fop at Lady Montague's party when he was trying to eat her daughter? And you almost died because you were laughing to hard to disappear after you got the girl to safety?"

Ash laughed harder, shaking his head back and forth and making weird choking noises as tears of mirth glittering in his eyes.

"No more!" he wheezed, "No more, please!"

Alexion watched him as he enjoyed himself. He could feel his own enjoyment curling in his chest. He didn't know what it was, but Ash and Simi were the only two people in all the worlds that could rip apart the numbing indifference that came with being a shade. And, at times like this, he was stupidly glad.

"Oh _gods_," Ash gasped out, "I'd completely forgotten about that! I don't think I've ever seen him look so horrified. It's too bad camera's weren't invented then or I'd have the _ultimate_ blackmail material. _Ever_."

Alexion snorted. "You do realise you're a _god_ right? You can travel through time?"

Ash sat up straight, realisation dawning across his face. "I'll be right back!" he exclaimed and immediately poofed away.

He was back less than a minute later, laughing hysterically again and clutching a digital camera. "Look!" he shoved the camera's digital display in Alexion's face, "It was even better the second time!"

Alexion snorted in amusement as he carefully took the camera and flicked through the pictures, his own grin threatening to crack his face in half. Poor Stryker. He looked like the offspring of a unicorn and a rainbow threw up on him.

"I wonder if this is the reason he stepped up his game over the past few hundred years?" he mused, "It would make sense…sort of. It was about then that he really started to get vicious in his confrontations with you…"

Ash sighed happily as he flopped down in his seat, renewing Simi's popcorn bowl with a snap of his fingers. She had been studiously ignoring the crazy people behind her, happy to watch the crazy people on the TV instead.

"If it is," Ash admitted, "then it was worth it."

They both stared at the camera for a moment, then Alexion caught his eye and they both cracked up at the same time.

* * *

><p>"You're French."<p>

The quiet voice had Jean-Luc jumping. Crap, he'd completely forgotten about his alleyway companion. Wait…that sounded wrong.

He turned his attention back to his…friend? Acquaintance? Blood donor? Person with whom he had saved the life and soul of? Ah, now he had it. _Englishman_.

"And you're English." He drawled in return.

This probably wasn't the best thing he could have done, Jean-Luc mused as he took a closer look at the shorter (ha!) man, seeing as how he seemed to be _twitching_.

"Er…" Jean-Luc added after a pretty violent spasm had the man's head wrenching to the side, "are you okay?"

And yes, it did kill him to ask an Englishman that.

"Harry." The man said holding out his hand, the piece of wood he had previously dropped jumping straight into his palm.

Guess that wasn't a stake then.

"Eh?" Jean-Luc asked, distracted a little by the way Harry was running his fingers over the…what the hell was it anyway?

"Harry. My name." Harry said with a small smile as he slid the stick back up his sleeve.

Jean-Luc's eyebrow rose. _Harry_ still hadn't stopped twitching. In fact, now that he looked closer, his whole body seemed to be trembling. "Jean-Luc." He said after a moment.

"Jean-Luc." Harry repeated, pronouncing it as 'John Luke'.

Jean-Luc winced at the butchering and debated trying to educate him on the correct pronunciation. He quickly gave it up as a lost cause when he remembered that the man was _English_ and therefore wouldn't be able to say it right anyway.

Harry took a step jerky step forward and Jean-Luc had to resist taking a corresponding step backwards. There was something mildly disturbing in the way the Englishman was fixated on him.

"Jean-Luc, Jean-Luc, Jean-Luc." Harry muttered as he twitched forward another step. "You're _French_."

Jean-Luc could find nothing else to say but "We've already covered that."

"So _why_…" Harry asked, his eyes flicking up to the hat before fixing back on Jean-Luc's "are you wearing an _English_ hat?"

Jean-Luc opened his mouth, and then promptly closed it again. How the hell did this man know the origin of his hat?

_Ash's hat_. Merde, he better not get that confused. No way was he claiming ownership over that monstrosity.

A brush against the front of his coat brought him back out of his thoughts to find Harry standing _right there_, his fingers playing with the buttons. His eyes were wide and so very green and Jean-Luc felt like he was falling.

"Jean-Luc…?" Harry whispered, pressing himself against him fully.

"I-" Jean-Luc stuttered, "I…"

"Do you know what that is?" Harry asked coyly, smoothing his palm up Jean-Luc's chest, over his shoulder until he was cupping the rapid pulse of the Frenchman in his palm.

Subconsciously, Jean-Luc dipped his head towards him. "Non…"

"It's…" Harry's breath hitched as he pushed himself up on his toes, bringing their lips so tantalisingly close. Then suddenly his expression morphed into one of complete and utter madness. "_SACRILEGE!"_

With that, he whipped the hat off Jean-Luc's head, jammed it onto his own and sprang out of the alleyway with a flourish.

Jean-Luc rocked forward, almost tripping over his feet at the sudden change. He did manage to turn his head to follow Harry's rapid departure just in time to see the tail end of that damn feather disappearing around the corner.

* * *

><p>Ash, having finally got his laughter under control, grinned at Alexion.<p>

Alexion, for all his nine thousand years, could not stop the look of disbelief crossing his face. "Did that man just _flounce_-"

"Yup!" Ash interrupted cheerfully.

"And he stole-"

"Yes!" Ash grin widened.

"But you told Jean-Luc that you'd be back for it-"

"I know!" Ash crowed.

Alexion let out a laugh before he managed to school his face into something stern. "Ash."

Ash started to cackle. "It's going to be _brilliant_."

Alexion pinched the bridge of his nose but made no move to stifle his smile. "Poor, Jean-Luc…" he murmured.

Simi shot them both a look of annoyance and shuffled closer to the screen. "The Simi is surrounded by crazies."

Ash laughed louder.

* * *

><p>"What. The <em>fuck<em>. Was _that_." Jean-Luc said, his eyes wide.

He stared after the departed feather for a moment before his brain caught up with him and a look of horror crossed his face. That _Englishman_ had just stolen Ash's hat! Ash was going to _kill him_!

He sprinted onto the main street, narrowly avoiding barrelling into a group of drunken civilians. They cursed him out but Jean-Luc ignored them, pushing past until he was standing in the middle of the walkway.

Harry had disappeared.

He desperately scoured the street. How the _fuck_ could he not spot that _stupid_ hat?

A cackle of laughter coming from the far end of the street attracted his attention, as well as the attention of possibly every other person. Jean-Luc tried to spot where it was coming from but everyone was crowding, trying to do the same.

A small break in the mass of people allowed him to see Harry standing at the crossways at the bottom of the street, his hands in the air and swinging his hips alarmingly, the feather mimicking each swing, still laughing madly.

He froze mid-swing and locked gazes with Jean-Luc, who felt terror skitter down his spine.

Harry broke that by waving cheerily at him, stuck his tongue out whilst giving him two fingers and then sprinting down the left street, the feather trailing after him.

Jean-Luc's jaw dropped. "That…that! _Fils de pute!"_

The people around him looked at him weirdly. He sneered at them, as only the French can do, and sprinted after the little thief.

* * *

><p>Back in the bar, Seamus looked blearily around their small group.<p>

"Hey guys?" He called out, "Where'd Harry go?"

"Went outside for air." Ron slurred, absentmindedly ducking as Fred threw his arm out in a grand gesture that would have otherwise smacked him in the face.

Seamus frowned and peered at his wrist, squinting a little in the gloomy light. "But…that was _aaaages_ ago."

"You're not even wearing a watch." Neville, the only one semi-sober, pointed out.

Seamus looked from his bare wrist to Neville and back again, before he dropped his arm on the table and tried to prop his chin in his hand. He missed.

"But he's still been _aaaages_…"

"Maybe!" George said suddenly.

"Penguin!" Fred added.

Everyone glanced at Fred.

"Am I drunker than I thought or did that not make sense to anyone else?" Bill asked eventually.

"I…think it was Fred…" Charlie answered.

"I'm George." Fred agreed sagely.

"Right…" Seamus said, "But that still doesn't answer where Harry disappeared off to."

Neville shrugged. "I'm sure he'll turn up eventually."

Seamus nodded and then frowned. "And where's Dean?"

"Passed out on the floor."

Seamus looked under their table to find that Neville was, once again, right. "Oi!" He shouted, kicking his best mate. "None of that! You're not getting out of the next round of shots."

* * *

><p>You know, I've never quite understood why Ash never enjoyed himself as much as he could have. Yeah, he's got that whole overly angsty past going on – but <em>surely<em> he could take the time out to do _something_ fun? Even if it was just laughing at what his minions had to wear to blend in.

…Actually…he probably _did_ do that. But in the safety of his palace home.

After all, he's been alive for eleven thousand years – with all the dubious fashion choices that came with that. Can you imagine the dark-hunters having to go around in a ruff collar? Valerius would probably suit that actually. Or dressed in the height of Rococo fashion?

Ha! Zarek dodged a bullet there!

And you _totally _know that the daimons were all fops and dandies!

I should write that. I really should. And if anyone wants to draw me Stryker as a fop, I would totally love you forever. Seriously.

Review! What was your favourite line?


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